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TRP: Hansel and Mishka (Return)
Izzy: Hansel waved an amicable good-bye to Raef once they got back to the Sugar Glider. They parted ways with their respective loot, and Hansel started to head belowdecks to find Mishka, expecting he might be in -- his room? Their room? Well, it was moot so he brushed it off. Mishka was sitting on the deck, seemingly dozing off, curled up in ... his blanket? Goddammit. Easier to not think about it. Instead he said Mishka's name softly to give him a little warning before he shrugged his bag off and sat down next to him. It was a bit chilly to just sit out here -- he really should've gone inside. Idiot. (Hansel smiled a bit.) "Hey. You good?" Coyote: Mishka hadn't realized he was sleeping until he awoke. He hadn't slept in.... a while. It was hard to sleep (he kept thinking about the dreamscape, what it'd felt like.) But he woke up, and he was warm in a blanket, though his face and hands were cold and numb. Hansel was sitting next to him. Warm side pressed to warm side. Mishka still tasted wine on his tongue, and--for the first time in weeks--felt-- ... Pleased and relaxed. Hansel looked pleased and relaxed, too, for once. Mishka leaned against him. "Mmm. 'M good. You good?" Izzy: "All good." A little surprised that Mishka genuinely did seem fine, but -- it was a pleasant surprise. Not a lot of those going around. Hansel was determined to enjoy it while it lasted. He tugged his bag open and pulled out the partial bottle of wine -- the rest clinking together in a way that probably betrayed the fact that they were all that was in there -- and offered it to Mishka. He should probably just take Mishka to bed, get him to sleep somewhere normal for a while, but he was still a bit too keyed up himself to feel able. "Provisions, Captain?" Coyote: "Mm. I might already be drunk," Mishka said. "It's possible. At least." He said, "But you can be drunk, too, if you like." Looking at Hansel with dark, warm hazel eyes. Izzy: "How did you get drunk?" Hansel narrowed his eyes, feigning offense to add, "And without me. Fuckin' inconsiderate." He stashed the wine to find something else -- literally anything else. That explained how Mishka was calm, he supposed. Here he'd thought he was the only one hiding booze on the ship. Coyote: "Mm." Mishka closed his eyes. He felt warm inside. This was nice. "Han. I'd never hide alcohol from you. Feed you to a dragon? Maybe. Steal your ship and leave you to die? Apparently yet. But hiding booze-- I couldn't." That didn't seem like a very funny joke, now that he said it out loud. So he dropped the bullshit and said, "I was having a panic attack. You know. Sitting on the deck. Up there." He pinched his wrist again. There were small, bloody, crescent-shaped marks there where his fingernails had bitten, and they stung in the salty air. "Goro came and helped me. Gave me a bottle of wine. I said, Did you wait until Han was gone to give this to me? and he said Oh, Han is gone? just like that. In that precise voice." Izzy: He snorted. Feed him to a dragon. Fuckin' dragon could choke on him. He twisted the cork out of a bottle with his teeth and spat it away, settling in next to Mishka, automatically putting an arm around him as he talked -- losing his facade for a moment. Hansel started to apologize for leaving, for letting that happen, but it seemed like it had been fine. He guessed. Fucking Goro. "Huh. That was ... nice of him." He downed some -- oh, whiskey. Another pleasant surprise. He wanted to distract Mishka, keep the moment from becoming too serious -- hopefully keep him from picking at the tiny marks he'd clearly left on himself -- so he solemnly said, "Sounds like he was trying to take advantage of you. Want me to fuck him up?" Coyote: Oh no. Mishka sat bolt upright, suddenly, remembering what had happened. He'd called Goro Aleks. "Oh my god," Mishka said. "Hansel. Never leave me alone with Goro again. Especially not if there is alcohol on the ship. Oh my fucking god. Actually, just never leave me unsupervised again, I am a moron when I'm drunk." Izzy: Fuck, he'd been joking. What the fuck? Hansel put the bottle down, straightening with Mishka, a hand dropping to one of his axes instinctively even with no one else on the deck. Last time Goro had been alone around Mishka -- "The fuck did he do?" Coyote: Oh no. Now Hansel was looking at him in surprise and anger. All concerned. "Oh, no," Mishka said. "No. It's fine. I'm just a moron." He pressed closer to Hansel's side, enjoying the heat of his body. "Look, don't fuck him up. He was being nice--I think? I mean... you know, he acts like a dick, but I think it's just cover for something. I mean, he noticed I was freaking out, gave me some wine, and then backed off." He bit his tongue. "It's fucking stupid. You're going to laugh. You know that Three Questions game of mine? I ask you three, you ask me three, we'll both be honest? Anyway, I asked him to stay and have a drink with me, and we played that. I mean, I intended to lie, and he probably did too, but instead things ended up getting... wildly honest. He told me he liked me and wanted to be friends." There. Now Goro could be embarrassed as well. "We ought to get him drunk again sometime," Mishka said. "He's nicer when he's drunk. You'd like it." Maybe Hansel would forget about asking what had happened and what Mishka was so embarrassed about. Izzy: All right. Okay. It was fine. It was fine. Hansel settled again, sighing. Don't fucking scare me like that, he wanted to say, but it wasn't really Mishka's fault that he tended to overreact. He pulled Mishka close and kissed the top of his head, more to soothe himself than his -- ex -- husband. "For fuck's sake," he grumbled. "Y'can't just get drunk with someone like a normal person, can you?" Then he snorted. Goro liked him and wanted to be friends. That was kind of fucking funny, though. Couldn't really imagine that tightly-wound little motherfucker saying something like that. But it made him think of something else, and he started not to bring it up, but -- he'd had a day. And Mishka was mostly calm. And he was calm. And it was fine, it would be fine. "Hey. Why'd you -- why did you tell fucking Goro about -- what happened. After you left. The storm." He kept his voice level. Coyote: Mishka took a breath. It'd been stupid. He leaned back against Hansel, tense. Thought over how to say this. Without trying to... change it, or make it less than what it was, or trying to make it not Mishka's fault. It was Mishka's fault. Mishka said it carefully. "That night I gave you back the antidote for Jonn. Or maybe it was the day after that, I can't remember. Goro came to see me for the first time. That was the first time I'd seen him, spoken to him. I was..." He looked for the right word. "Angry I'd lost. And prideful. And I'd wanted to hurt you so you'd--" So you'd finally hurt me back, Mishka thought. So he could give himself an excuse to hate Hansel, any excuse. But the problem with Hansel was, no matter how Mishka had lashed out at him, Hansel had refused to react. Until, suddenly, it had worked. Telling Goro about the cannibalism had gotten to him and cracked something in Hansel, enough that Hansel had come to see him, angry and armed. And Mishka-- Mishka, the instant he'd realized he'd won, hated winning and didn't want it anymore. "I wanted to hurt you, and I did," Mishka said. "I tried anything I could think of." Izzy: Hansel mulled this over for a while, silent, his thumb worrying the rim of his bottle. Hm. Goro had gone to see Mishka. Sought him out after -- everything he knew Mishka had been responsible for, which hadn't even been a fraction of what Mishka had actually done. And that had been a long fucking time ago now, and Goro had just -- been around. Hadn't said anything. Hadn't done anything. That was interesting. "Huh," he said finally, and took a drink. "Well, you didn't do a very good fucking job, with him, eh. Not your best work, motek." Coyote: "Are you okay?" Mishka said. "In general, I mean." It was nice, being able to sit here quietly with Hansel with no drama. He didn't want to disturb it by asking about the cannibalism thing. It didn't seem like his business. Regardless of what had happened, Hansel was Hansel. "Sometimes I feel like I ought to ask," Mishka said quietly. "Y'know, sit here and drag the whole story out of you. But then I think I shouldn't. Because I don't think talking is going to help you, and I don't think I can handle... whatever-it-is right now. And it doesn't really matter, because... no matter what you say about it, I'm going to stay here with you anyway." Izzy: God, he wanted to say something flippant. He'd managed it when Mishka had asked him if he was okay while he was under the influence of the truth serum -- fuck no, and fuck you for asking. He'd even been a little proud of that. Play it like a joke. Mishka had glazed over it then. But he was fairly sure Mishka had still wanted him dead, then, and the question had seemed more like a taunt that anything. Probably just meant to hurt him. Of course he wasn't fucking okay. In general. At all. Particularly not now, with all of the bullshit that had happened, and was still happening, and was going to happen soon. But precisely now -- alone on the deck of a ship, under the stars with his arm around Mishka again, he felt -- fine. Not fine in the way he kept telling himself he was fine. Just ... briefly, actually, okay. The things that normally kept circling in his head were still. Mishka did that. It didn't make any fucking sense, but he did. Hansel wanted to ask, Are you actually going to stay? but he didn't want to hear the answer, so instead he said, "I'm all right," and took another drink, and said, "Yeah, of course. I'm fuckin' great. You know me." Coyote: In retrospect it was a dumb question, what with the apocalypse going on and all. Talking about it probably wasn't going to make Hansel feel better. Hansel needed to actually, you know, feel safe. And nothing Mishka said was going to make it better. Mishka was a liar. He said a lot of things. He wished there was a way to show Hansel he meant it. This one thing: that he'd stay this time. But even if he meant it now, he could just... change his mind later. Or they all could die. "Well," Mishka said. "I mean it. I want to be here with you. But I know I said that the last time, too. When we were married. And I know you probably don't believe me anymore, now that I'm saying it this time. I certainly wouldn't believe me. I suppose I'll just have to show you." Maybe Hansel didn't even want him around. That was fine. Mishka would leave, then. Mishka shifted. "Hey. This isn't relevant, but I feel like you ought to be aware. I kissed him. Goro, I mean. He came to my estate to talk about blueprints and we played chess. Before you and I reconciled. We drank a bit-- he might've been drunk, too? Can't remember. Anyway, I seriously doubt it'll come up again. Kid's obsessed with Sugar. Pretty adorable, actually." Yeah, he really ought to stop getting drunk with Goro. Izzy: It was a nice thought -- Mishka staying. He was right that Hansel didn't really believe he'd do it, but it meant something that he at least wanted to. At least for now. Until something else suited him better, Hansel supposed. But he did believe that Mishka thought he wanted to stay, and that didn't mean nothing, it was just too many layers of fucking indecision. He was too tired -- and trying to be too drunk -- to work it out. Completely hypocritically, he commented, "Sounds like you need to drink less, captain." Then he felt like he should probably say something else, so he added, "He's not good enough for Nixie," when he'd meant to say something to reassure Mishka that he didn't mind. Well. It probably went without saying. Coyote: "Mm. You know, I actually like them together. She needs someone... cunning... like that. Reminds me of me, a bit." Mishka idly picked at the hem of the blanket. It didn't really matter, anyway. The apocalypse was happening around them. They might all be dead tomorrow. Mishka had already done enough talking, anyway. Instead, he cupped Hansel's cold face between his hands; warm, now, flushed with alcohol. He liked it when Hansel was drunk. He liked it when Hansel was warm, and pliable, and large. Mishka leaned up a little. Stopping an inch away. Asking without words: Am I allowed to kiss you? Izzy: Hansel pulled away instinctively. Looked away. Took a long drink that emptied the bottle and swallowed hard. His jaw had tightened when Mishka had touched him and the tension traveled through the rest of his body. He didn't know why. He was -- so fucking relieved, every time he looked at Mishka. He was here. He was alive, and safe, and he wasn't trying to fucking kill Hansel anymore, and that seemed like it should be enough. That seemed like it should be it. It was over. Everything was fucking fine. Hansel wanted to say: Out of everything you did, the worst thing was making me think that I caused it. He wanted to say: You ran away and made me think I'd done something wrong, and the entire time, it was just all you. But that wasn't fucking helpful. Saying it wouldn't make anything different. So he stood up instead, shouldering his bag again, and turned to offer a hand down to Mishka, and acted like nothing had happened. "I'm gonna get some sleep. You coming?" Coyote: Fuck. Mishka swallowed back the hurt. He wasn't allowed to feel hurt about this. Closed his eyes, briefly, to compose himself. So this was how it was going to be, then. Hansel would say he loved him, and Hansel would call him motek and ahuvi, and Hansel would risk his life to save Mishka from a fucking monster, but he wouldn't kiss Mishka or be with him, not the way Mishka still wanted. And how fucking stupid Mishka was upset about it. He ought to just go to bed and let it be. That was obviously what Hansel wanted. Mishka rested back against the wall again. Hansel had done nothing wrong; Hansel was already taking care of the whole fucking ship. He ought to make this as easy and simple as possible. He was already fucked up and broken; he couldn't handle sleeping in bed with Hansel again tonight, and Hansel didn't deserve to deal with him. So instead, Mishka waved him away and kept his voice normal. "No. It's-- rest up. I'd like a while longer out here by myself. I've missed the sea. Go to bed, Han." Izzy: This wasn't better. This wasn't what he'd wanted. He should've just let -- but -- fuck. Hansel's chest ached. He dropped his hand. "All right. Stay warm." He turned to head belowdecks. Coyote: END Category:Text Roleplay